Robbins still followed the sea, and his arrival at Bolivar on the night of the “festa” was in the nature of an accident—a lucky one I deemed it, since it brought me once again in contact with a valiant, honest spirit I had always greatly admired in the past.
The romance that once infested the ocean is not yet wholly dead; some miserable Lascars in his crew had conspired together, secretly overwhelmed the faithful sailors, and made prisoners of them, put the mate—the captain was killed in the mêlée adrift in a jollyboat and sailed away to perdition, for the vessel was never heard of again.
Robbins’ luck still pursued him, for he was picked up some days later by an English tramp steamer bound for the gulf ports in search of a cargo of bananas and cocoanuts. So he landed in Bolivar without a picayune in his pocket beyond the few dollars loaned him by the English captain of the tramp. I could have shouted when I heard this; he belonged to me, this valorous son of Neptune, and I was pleased to believe my fortune had, indeed, taken a turn for the better; the sea that had snatched him away at Samoa now restored him to me at Bolivar.
Time surely brings its compensations; but there are some things that can never be remedied on earth—at least, I believed so then.
I could picture his honest joy when, later on, I found time to relate my marvelous story of the great spoils that had fallen into my hands, which had brought me happiness for a time and then the blackest misery known on earth—that of being deserted.
How his eyes would shine when I pointed out the trim little steam yacht in the bay and told him that was to be his charge for all time to come.
The thought was so full of pleasure that I yearned for daylight in order to overwhelm him with this surprise; faculties awoke to life that had lain dormant very, very long, and I was surprised to find that I could actually derive pleasure from anticipation.
It must have been all of two hours we stood there by the statue, with the rollicking citizens holding high carnival around us, as though determined to outdo all previous experiences. Our talk was wholly of the past, for I meant to keep my good news until I could point out the gay little craft from my window in the hotel and ask Robbins how he would like to cruise around the universe in her as master, knocking at the door of every celebrated seaport as we went along and drowning dull care in the life of luxurious ease to be found only on board such a trim vessel.
It was hard to restrain myself, but I took a singular pleasure in thinking what a treat I had in store for the morning.
So when Robbins spoke of looking for a new berth on the following day I begged him to leave it with me, as I thought I knew of an opening, and though he must have been more or less mystified by my chuckles and hints, he readily agreed to do so.